Delicious
by FragilePuzzle
Summary: AU. Near is an aspiring chef, and Mello is one of the top chefs in the city--so when Near gets a chance to work at Mello's restaurant, he snatches it up. Little does he know, he might actually end up working closer to his newfound rival than expected...
1. Chapter 1

_Mihael 'Mello' Keehl is one of the most brag-worthy reservations in town. Keehl is known for his haute French cuisine and was voted "Chef of the Year" by his peers. The dining experience comes as close to his original French restaurant as possible in both décor and menu_—"

Near looked away from the television, chopping the tomatoes he was working on with a cross expression plastered across his face, sighing as he pushed back his hair with his forearm. It was held back in a headband, but it always seemed as though a curl or two managed to slip out. Finally, the tomatoes were evenly chopped into tiny pieces, and he tossed them into a nearby pot after making sure the soup was still boiling at the perfect temperature.

Welcome to the life of Nate 'Near' River. The small boy was a cook at a small restaurant, and though he was the most talented chef any of the customers knew, he still got a small salary and lived in a small apartment somewhere in the depths of the Las Vegas slums. His cooking had never gotten a chance to shine, but he was fine with where he was. There was only one thing he did not like—the haughty and snooty chef, Mihael 'Mello' Keehl. His face was plastered everywhere, yet most people had never even tasted his cooking. Too damn expensive for anybody but the richest in the whole city of Las Vegas. It was idiotic that he be idolized by people that had never even tasted his cooking. At least the people that idolized Near had actually _tasted_ his food.

"Near!" Halle screamed, running back into the kitchen, holding a piece of paper in her hand. "Near, Near, _Near_!"

"Yes, Halle?" he asked, rinsing his hands off before turning around to talk to the waitress that worked at their restaurant—Halle.

"Near, you know that super-fancy restaurant? The one that you've _always _wanted to work at? _L_?"

"Yes, I have wanted to work at L for quite a long time. But I believe that is beside the point," Near said softly, looking at the clock and expecting the dinner rush to come any minute. "Instead of talking about my dreams, Halle should probably get back to work."

"No, no, LOOK!"

Halle thrust a piece of paper towards him, gesturing eagerly for him to take it out of her hands. Sighing deeply before obeying, Near took it and began to read, gray eyes opening wide. There was…a cooking contest…and the winner got a chance to be able to work at L! If the judges liked their food enough, they would instantly be hired…and it was…tonight! It was in an… _hour?_

"Go ahead and go, Near," Halle smiled, looking at him happily. "We can close the restaurant for one night. I mean, seriously? Hun, you've never missed a day of work in your life. Now, why don't you go show them how we do it down here?!"

Near nodded quietly, tossing off his apron and waving a quick 'goodbye' and 'thank you' to Halle before running out the back door.

"First time I've seen him smile in a long time…" said Halle, grinning to herself. "Little sweetie sure deserves to win, and get the hell out of here."

---_At L, a little while later_---

Near had ran down to L as fast as he could, having to run all the way through the slums of Las Vegas at night to be able to reach the fancy restaurant. He knew the way by heart, as he had memorized the exact location when he first knew that he wanted to work there. Near was going to get a job there, and beat Mihael Keehl at his own damn game.

As soon as Near entered the restaurant, he immediately felt out-of-place. Everybody else in there was dressed in their fancy clothes while he was dressed in only street clothes, his hair pulled back with a plain white headband. However, while everybody there was giving him disdainful looks _now_, they weren't going to be when they tasted his cooking. He was going to make them eat it, metaphorically of course, because he couldn't have his cooking wasted on those people who were _still_ looking at him like he was a piece of chewing gum stuck on the bottom of their shoe. Their stares were conspicuous, and they actually took a step back and turned up their noses as he walked by.

However, ignoring all of the eyes that dug into his flesh like fire, he walked over to the registration table.

"Nate River," he said, voice soft and firm.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but you have to be a registered chef to enter…" said the girl there, looking at him with the same disdainful look everybody else had. "_Street trash_—"

Near held out his wallet, showing the girl his license he had to cook at a restaurant.

"I am not street trash," he said, his voice curt as his eyes became more firm. "I will endure the disdain I am receiving, but I do refuse to accept the name of street trash. Just because my father did not drop me off in a limo does not mean I have not worked just as hard, if not harder, than anybody here."

With that, Near signed his name on the form the girl handed him, none of the little rich boys knowing what to say to him. So they decided that not talking to the crazy street trash would probably be for the best. They only watched him as he walked back over and stood in line once again, crossing his arms and tapping his foot in impatience.

"Hello," said a man, walking out into the main room. "I presume that you are all here for the cooking tournament?"

"L," Near said, trying to hide the soft excitement in his voice, nobody else realizing who the man with the hunch and plain baggy clothes was. "…the owner of this very restaurant."

"…"

"How is it that nobody knows the man who owns the very restaurant they are applying to work at? Surely they must have had some idea _whom_ this man was, am I correct?" Near's smirk was internal, but there nonetheless.

You could have heard a pin hit the floor. The floor was carpeted.

"Very well then," L said, clearing his throat. "Please, begin by lining up in alphabetical order. This is just the basic preliminary stage. Before I begin, I would like to thank you all for applying for a job here. Now, I am not one to waste time, so we are going to start now."

As soon as everybody was lined up, L started at the A's and began to work his way down the line of people. Pulling out his list and a pen, he checked them off one by one, beginning to subtract from the ten points they were given. Whoever had the most points at the end got the job.

"Minus ten, you're fat. Minus ten, you're ugly…erm…minus ten, your clothes are stained. Minus ten, your hair is askew."

Near's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, the small boy disguising it a moment later. He couldn't believe that people were getting kicked out for being_ ugly_. It wasn't as if they could help how they were born. However, Near was more worried for himself, at the moment. He readjusted his plain headband, brushing out whatever few wrinkles he had in his clothing before rolling his sleeves up to hide a small stain he had on the cloth by the hand.

"You…" L said, tapping Near on the head with his pen. "Minus five points. You are not as well-off as everybody else here, that I can tell. That gives you a disability, and I subtracted the five points because you have a stain on your sleeve. Also, I can see a smudge of dirt on your shoe. I am guessing you ran here?"

Near nodded slowly, wondering how L had picked up on all of the just by looking at him. He must have been some kind of observant genius, but that didn't exactly surprise Near. He was the owner of one of the most expensive restaurants in the world.

As L continued to work his way down the line, Near realized that he was one of the only people that was remaining. Most people got minus ten points on their first look-over…they hadn't even started cooking yet, and Near guessed that there was only going to be about ten or fifteen people he was going to have to compete against. Finally, as L arrived at a bubbly blonde girl, he sighed deeply.

"Misa, why are you here?" he asked, looking up at her from down in his slouched position.

"I'm your sister, silly!" she giggled, hugging the raven-haired man. "Why _wouldn't_ I be here?"

It was obvious who had inherited the brains in the family.

"Misa, you do not need to wait in line. Do you know how to cook?" he asked, tugging her away and gesturing for her to sit in a plain chair. "Now, please stay there while I finish this…"

"Okie dokie, artichokie!" she said, swinging her legs happily back and forth. "I'll be sure to be extra good!"

L sighed as he moved back to the line, finally arriving at the last man. He was a tall brunette with honey-colored eyes which could either be considered shining brightly or glinting maliciously.

"Light Yagami…minus zero points," he said, finding apparently no faults with the prim and proper man. "Very nice job."

Everybody left stared at this seemingly godlike male, Near included. He was the only wannabe-chef who had gotten no points subtracted, which was an amazing feat in itself.

"Okay, now I will announce who we have left," said L, black eyes turning down to look at his clipboard. "We have Sayu Yagami at seven points, Stephen Loud at six points, Naomi Misora at six points, Raye Penber at seven points, Nate River at five points, and Light Yagami at ten points. Everybody else is dismissed."

'_Six people…_' Near thought. '_That is not too much competition. But I am in last place…that must change.'_

"Now it is time to begin the cooking," L said. "Chefs, please go to a station. You may request any ingredient, and your personal runner will fetch it for you. Now, begin. You have thirty minutes."

Near ran over to his station, grabbing an apron and tossing it on before beginning to scrub furiously at his hands, wracking his brain for what he should cook. Hm…rice noodles with tofu would be quick, and everybody said it was delicious. Yeah, that was what he was going to cook. He told all of the ingredients he would need to his runner, who immediately ran back to get them and was back at the station in less than a minute.

He began to cook eagerly, tossing ingredients in left and right while frying the tofu as he drained the noodles, chopping up his lime and chili peppers. He sliced the citrus into decorative shapes as he continued to multitask, finishing just in time for the deadline. The soft scent of cooking food wafted through the air, and steam slowly rose from newly-prepared dishes.

"Please present your food to the judges," L said, gesturing to a table with three very snobby looking men.

Near waited his turn, watching as each person got judged before him. His nerves were on fire as he watched person by person be sent home, the small boy almost considering turning on his heel and running back to the safety of his tiny restaurant. However, he had gotten his dream chance, and he wasn't about to give it up now.

"Sayu Yagami is dismissed. Stephen Loud is dismissed. Naomi Misora is dismissed. Raye Penber is dismissed," they said, there now being only Light and Near left. "Mister Yagami, please let us see what you have cooked."

"Crepes Suzette, very good…" one muttered, taking a bite and nodding. "Very good indeed, Mister Yagami."

One by one, the judges took bites and nodded, looking over at L after discussing something momentarily.

"Light Yagami, minus zero points. Now, if way may see the dish of our last entrant, Mister River?"

Near almost threw up, purely from nerves as he made his way over to the table, setting the plate with the noodles on it in front of the judges. Even Light snorted as the judges looked at it with appalled looks on their faces. Near furrowed his brow, nudging it towards them as none of them made a move to taste it.

"Is this peasant food, or something of the like?"

"Will my stomach be able to handle this?"

"What _is_ this, anyhow?"

"Eat it. It is only fair. All of the other entrant's works were sampled," said Near, voice monotone yet managing to be extremely threatening at the same time.

Slowly, the judges each reached a fork to the noodles, each taking a bite of the spicy dish. Near grinned as their faces lit up, each judge trying to hide it, but it was impossible. Nobody could resist his cooking. _Nobody_.

"Nate River…plus five points!" they announced, looking at him as if he was a monkey that had just discovered chemistry.

Smirking and trying not to let out a victory shout, Near turned around and looked at Light with a sort of smug expression on his face. But only if you looked really hard. Now it was the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny. Light Yagami…was going to be his newest rival on his quest to beat Mihael Keehl.

And he was just fine with that.


	2. Chapter 2

Trying not to let out a soft chuckle to go along with his internal smirk, Near turned around and looked at Light with a blank expression on his face. However, there was just a hint of childish victory playing in his eyes, but it was only visible if you looked _really_ hard. Now it was the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny. Light Yagami…was going to be his newest rival on his quest to beat Mihael Keehl. To think that this had happened only in the course of two hours.

And he was just fine with that.

"It appears as though we have a tie," mused L, chewing on his fingernail as he looked at the both of them. "I wonder. I suppose we shall have to have one final cook-off, between the two of you. You will each be tasked with cooking the same dish, and whoever manages to confect it more successfully will have the honor of working at our restaurant. Does that sound acceptable?"

Near nodded eagerly, but Light purred a seductive, "Of course, sir."

So that was how it was going to be.

"You will each have to cook a cake commonly known as 'Death By Chocolate.' We have all of the ingredients, and you will each have a station as before. Please accomplish this within the time limit. You have two hours for it to be completely prepared and baked. You may begin."

Near rushed over to his station, immediately beginning to wash his hands as he looked at all of the expensive cake ingredients. He had never in his _entire_ life used such expensive and rich ingredient. They probably cost as much as a month's rent in his apartment.

However, he pushed those thoughts aside and began to prepare his cake. He mixed chocolate, the deepest and smoothest he had ever seen, surprised that he didn't have to absolutely smash at it to get it relatively close to being ready to melt. In seemingly no time at all, all of his ingredients were mixed and he was pouring the batter into a cake pan, slapping it into the three-hundred-and-fifty degree oven. A little bit later, 'ding,' and the cake was done. Light was pulling his out of the oven as well, and they both glanced of each other as they flipped the cakes out of the pan.

"Here you go, sir," smiled Light, slicing off a piece of the still warm cake and taking it over to L. "I'd love it if you tried some as well, sir!"

Nears face remained blank as he viciously sliced a piece off of his own cake, his actions accidentally reflecting his internal despair of having the victory seat snatched away from him by this other man. Light was blatantly sucking up, or flirting, or doing _something_ to try and get L to favor him. However, the raven-haired man just gently pushed the plate aside – still looking hungrily at the cake. Or maybe it was Light. The small boy was in no position to tell.

'_If you can't win the game… if you can't solve the puzzle… you're nothing but a loser.' _Near reminded himself, placing the cake carefully on a plate and staring down at the counter, the wheels in his brain cranking furiously.

"I'm afraid you must give it to a different judge this time…" L said, turning around as somebody walked down the large and winding staircase that led to the dining on the upper level.

As the small boy looked up, rage bubbled in his chest, and the boy pictured himself throwing the cake at the newfound guest and storming out. It was Mihael Keehl. Coming to taste the cake he had just put his whole heart into making. He couldn't believe that such expensive ingredients were being wasted on a stupid git like him. Mihael Keehl was coming down the stairs of 'L' to waste the cake he had worked so hard on. No. Just… no.

He didn't usually get so riled up like this, but if there was anything that could get a reaction out of him, Mihael Keehl was one of them.

However, it didn't appear as though he had much choice in the matter. The blonde walked over to L first, standing next to the slouching man and snatching the fork out of his hand, taking a bite of Light's cake. He nodded a few times, letting the chocolate melt in his mouth as he looked at the delicacy.

"Chocolate cake. You know me so well, L." A small smile was shared between the blonde and the raven-haired man, as though they had some secret that they were hiding away from everybody else. "Anyways, nice job," he commended Light, taking another bite. "It even looks good, and I must say, you know how to handle your rich ingredients. Very delicious. Now, you, commoner boy. Come over here."

Near's stomach twisted as he was addressed as 'commoner boy.' Really? Must they insult him at every turn? But, despite all of the insults and disparagement, Near calmly walked over to the three of them and handed his cake to the blonde chef. He tried to calm himself, not wanting to blow his chance by throwing a sugary confection at the cocky French bastard.

"It's decent," he said, taking one bite before replacing his fork for the one that rested on Light's plate and eating more of the brunette's cake. "But, I don't think you know how to handle rich ingredients. It's a bit overcooked. I believe that Light Yagami's cake is of higher quality than yours."

Near only nodded once before curtly setting his plate down on a nearby table, taking off his apron and walking over to the door. He had tried, but he could never compare to all of those chefs that had grown up rolling in the dough, with their mommies and daddies to buy them all the rich ingredients they needed. Practically running across the large lobby, Near almost didn't hear Mihael's voice over the roaring of the blood in his head.

"I do not remember my telling you to leave," the blonde said, beckoning him back over.

"It is a free country, if Mister Keehl will recall," said Near, almost having to yell because he refused to turn around. "_France_ may not be, but America certainly is."

"We have a job for you, and if Nate will remember, you signed the contract.

Near's eyes widened as he slowed to a stop. Contract? The only contract he had signed was the one…the one he hadn't bothered to read because he had been so furious at being treated so condescendingly. God. How could he have signed a contract without reading it? What could the slip of paper possibly say that would keep him from leaving? Did they own his soul or something?

"Here, if you want to read it, you may," whispered the blonde, his voice hot and low as he walked over to him and handed him the slip of paper. "You are to work here until you are dismissed. Under no circumstances shall this rule be broken."

Near's eyes widened. It said that, plain and clear, and his _name _was also plain and clear – in black ink - right on the line underneath that. Right next to 'I hereby agree to all and any terms mentioned in the previous statement.'

"You are going to be my student, my adorable little piece of vanilla crème pie," he said happily, running a finger up Near's neck and forcing him to tilt up his chin and look at him. The way he rolled his Rs and softened his Gs made Near want to slap him. Though that was not the only thing that was riling up the petite boy. One, Mihael Keehl—_the_ Mihael Keehl, had just called him 'My adorable little piece of vanilla crème pie.' Two, he was going to have to work for this flirty douche, and he wasn't allowed to leave until the blonde dismissed him.

"Light Yagami will take the job as sous-chef, and Nate River will be my personal _commis_," Mihael said gleefully, clapping his hands and snatching the contract from Near before the small boy had a chance to rip it up. "Now, I do believe that is acceptable?"

Everybody but Near nodded. He couldn't believe how he had gotten sucked _into_ this.

"I will see you all in the tomorrow at eight-o-clock," Mello said cheerily, letting Near go. "Especially you, my sweet-tasting butter biscuit! Byebye, now!"

Oh god.

---_Back at Near's apartment_---

"I am home," Near said dully, not wanting to wake Halle if she was sleeping.

"OH mah god! How'd it go, hun?" she asked excitedly, running out of the kitchen. "I'll bet you got that super-nice job easy, right?"

"I acquired _a_ job…" he said, accepting the congratulatory hug the older woman insisted on giving him. "I start work tomorrow morning."

"Hun, sound more excited!" she demanded, her voice slightly higher-pitched than normal, due to the excitement that was coursing through her veins. "If you work at it, I'll bet you can move out of here completely! Get your own place, a nice big house in the good part of town, oh _hun_; you should be so proud of yourself!"

"I would not leave Halle to pay the rent by herself," he said softly, setting his small bag he carried around with him everywhere down on the counter. "I believe that I prefer her company over the company of anybody who works at that restaurant. The only thing I wish I could change was that Halle could work there as well…I will miss her."

"Hun, you'll still see me every night!" she said, tapping the seemingly somber boy on the nose. "You're going to have a _great_ time working at the restaurant!"

"I suppose. But, I am going to go to sleep now," Near said, smiling at her softly. "I have to be to work at eight-o-clock, and I am quite tired."

"Aw, okay hun. I'll see you in the morning! I can be late to wish you good luck!"

"No, I will stop by the diner in the morning…" said Near. "I suppose I will have to say goodbye to everybody else as well."

"Sounds good, sweetie!"

Near nodded once before walking back to his bedroom, having to kick some things out of the way to get into the room. He could hear their neighbor's music, the couple above them arguing and fighting again, and people yelling and screaming out on the streets. There were the blaring sounds of car alarms, the skidding of wheels against pavement, the incessant noise of people honking their car horns in impatience. Just the normal sounds of the night.

---_The next morning_---

Near awoke to the sound of Halle screeching, 'Shut the fuck up!' to some of their neighbors.

What a pleasant alarm.

The small boy sleepily rubbed his eyes and got out of bed, intending to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of tight black jeans that accented his thin legs, grabbing a plain T-shirt and a sweatshirt in case it got cold. Stumbling out to the kitchen, he gave Halle a soft wave before walking over to the fridge and grabbing an apple and some soda.

"Good morning, hun! You're just in time to walk to work with me!" she said, buttoning up the last top on her waitress uniform. "C'mon!"

Near nodded, following Halle closely through the narrow streets. The door to the apartment complex was down a dark alleyway, that was dimply lit and dusty in the rising morning light. Seriously, every time Near turned around, the apartment he shared with Halle only looked shittier and shittier. It was an old brick building with cracks and broken windows, the structure practically looking like it was about to fall over. The fact that they could barely afford a room when they split the rent evenly was kind of depressing.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, the two arrived at the diner Near had worked at just yesterday. There were a bunch of customers in the front, at least double or triple the ones that were usually there.

"Surprise!" everybody, including Halle yelled, pulling Near into a massive group hug.

"What is this?"

"I called everybody up last night, and told them it was your last day, so we all got together and got you a present!" Halle said, still smiling as big as ever. "Here you go!"

The bubbly blonde woman handed him a small box that was made of a reflective silver metal, and had his name engraved in tiny letters in the corner. It was a recipe box…and a very expensive one, at that. As his gray eyes took it in, his pale hands wrung themselves out and he tried to keep himself from crying, having never felt as happy as he had right now. No emotions had ever overtook him like this, and it seemed almost impossible to keep his eyes from watering.

"I am very gracious to everybody," he said, voice pausing before hitching slightly as he took the small box out of Halle's hands. "But really, this is so expensive, and I know that—"

"Near, it's our gift!" said somebody.

"We wanted to get it for ya, for cooking us all this good food all these years!"

"You always put extra cheese on my girl's sandwich, just how you knew she liked it!"

"Never had a bad meal here, not even once!"

"See, Near," said Halle, pulling him into another hug. "We're gonna miss you down here, hun, and we just wanted to get you a gift. To remember us by, when you get to be a famous chef and all that. Just promise you won't forget us, will ya hun?"

Near sniffed a few times, trying to keep himself from crying. Never in his entire life had he felt so emotional. But he was not going to cry, he barely ever smiled, showing emotion would only prove him to be weak…

"Near, we love you, hun. We're gonna be rooting for you one-hundred percent," said Halle, kissing him on the top of the head. "You always got us to come back to, ya know. Always."

Near finally just gave in. He sniffled a few times before hugging Halle tightly, holding his newfound recipe box in between them. Letting the stray tears drip down his face, he turned towards the crowd that was watching him expectantly, nodding and smiling as thanks.

However, it was Halle that noticed what time it was.

"God, hun, you're gonna be late for your first day! Get going, babe!"

Near looked at the clock. It was seven thirty-five.

"Oh, I-I have to go!" he said, looking at everybody with wide eyes. "I will treasure this box forever…I swear! I-I will visit regularly, a-and—"

"Get going!" somebody said jokingly. "You ain't got no time for no acceptance speech!"

The small boy nodded before beginning to run, out of the diner, down the street, and to L, clutching the precious box to his chest the whole time.

The second thing that could rile him up?

Cooking.


	3. Chapter 3

"So you've finally arrived!" chuckled the blonde man, standing in the middle of the large kitchen. Near had just burst through the door, his face red and sweating, his white locks messily clinging to the sides of his damp cheeks—however, before he managed to say anything else, the chef's eyes caught on to the recipe box in his hand. The blue orbs narrowed slightly before he moved them back up to Near's petite and round face.

"I-I am sorry I am late," he panted, trying to steady his breath. "I do not h-have a car, so I was forced to run all the way—"

"Mon dieu, what is that thing you are holding to?" he asked, gesturing at the box in his hand, eyeing it as though he brought something dead in to his kitchen.

"I-It is a recipe box," he said, his voice now mostly back to its monotone normality, having caught his breath and calmed himself. He took a moment to stand up straighter; pushing his white headband he always wore further back into his curls, brushing the dirt off of his sweatshirt. It was only after a moment of silence did he look up and see that his newfound boss was looming over him. He thought the word 'looming' loosely, because, while the chef's presence was intimidating, he still had that slightly-phony and slightly-sincere grin on his face.

"I will be taking that, my little sugar strudella…I don't allow things like that in my kitchen, I am scared. You may have it back at the day's end, I figure, but please don't bring it back into my, how do you say…abode?"

'_The famous Mihael Keehl doesn't have very correct English grammar… he uses the wrong words a lot. It would be "afraid," not "scared,"' _Near thought to himself, steadying his voice before speaking in a curt, harsh tone.

"No."

Mihael raised an eyebrow at this cocky display of attitude, his lips pursing, but not saying anything as he saw the look on Near's face—the one that showed the boy was dead-set on having that box, whatever it was, and no matter what was in it.

"Qu'est que…what is that thing, anyways?" the chef asked, examining his nails as he noticed Near clutching it protectively to his chest, slipping it in the pocket of his sweatshirt. The white-haired boy made no move to say anything, at first, not until he received a 'go-on' look from the executive blonde.

"It is a recipe box. I received it from some of the patrons at the restaurant I worked prior to L," he said stiffly, his brow furrowing as he noticed the way the blonde chuckled under his breath, but did not say anything.

"Well, I suppose we shall get you acquainted with the other workers here, and they can help you whenever you are not with me, so never fear my sweet sherbet, you won't be without help for long should you need some when I am not gifted."

'_Present, you idiot.'_

"I understand," Near said, following his new boss as he led him over to the people working, whom Near had just now noticed. He ran through the restaurant without a care earlier, thinking it was still closed - how many people could afford to eat breakfast at L, anyways? But apparently, it was not so. There were several chefs busily working away, slaving over hot stoves, making everything from pancakes to Crème Brule.

"Now, my little cherry tart, this is my dear darling, Matt," the blonde said, air-kissing a redheaded man on the side of the cheek as he turned around.

"Mello, qui est ce?" he asked, looking at Near with large, green eyes. The first thing the redhead noticed was that Near was wearing a headband as well as he was, so he pointed that out to Mello in French. It was obvious he didn't know much English, but unlike Mello's only-present-enough-to-be-annoying accent, Matt had a gentle and authentic accent that Near found to be absolutely entrancing to listen to.

"Son nom est Near, et il est mon commis ... n'est-ce pas tout à fait adorable? Il a remporté la deuxième place du cuisiner vide que L tenue, Light Yagami étant celui qui a gagné le premier ... mais sa cuisine a été plutôt bonne, et je me sentais mal pour lui parce qu'il est si pauvre. Comme un petit chat errant, n'est-ce pas?" the blonde replied, laughing slightly as he looked back over at Near, beckoning for the small boy to come closer.

Near knew they were talking about him, by the way they would occasionally flicker their bright eyes over towards him, not to mention he was pretty sure he heard his name. But then again, 'Ni-ahn,' which was how Mello pronounced the word with his French accent, could just be another word from the strange foreign language.

"Il est très mignon, mais il semble bien qu'il est tout jeune. Savez-vous quel âge est-il? Vous ne devriez pas jouer avec des jouets qui sont si nouveaux ... Rappelez-vous ce qui est arrivé à ce garçon de retour en France? Tu as brisé le cœur, mon ami ... soyez doux avec ce nouvel élève. Il a l'air d'être fragiles," Matt replied, clacking his tongue against the back of his teeth.

Mello just shook his head, wrapping an arm protectively around Near's shoulder, grinning at his friend. However, he only got a disapproving look, the redhead sighing at his friend's promiscuity. Ever since they had gotten to America, it had only gotten worse. Mello's head and libido had both gotten as big as his fame over here…he had rich customers bringing him gifts and money, and he would eventually seduce them, sleep with them, and never talk to them again. But he kept the gifts, of course – Rolex watches, vacations, even a car that he rarely drove. No wonder he had snorted at the small recipe box that his new pet had gotten.

"Allez-vous emmener au lit?" Matt asked, as though it was the last question, the final sigh of defeat in his voice enough of a sign to tell both of them this.

"Bien sûr," Mello laughed, his hand traveling slightly below the very edge of the neck of Near's sweatshirt, causing the small boy to stiffen and pull away from the cocky blonde. He took a few steps towards Matt, his brow furrowing further, but he still didn't say anything. Speaking out against his new boss was something he figured he shouldn't do, lest he get fired before he even had a chance to challenge him.

"Ma chère, charmant petit animal, comment vas-tu pour survivre Mello? Ah, bon, je suppose que je devrais vous présenter à tout le monde, et arrêter de parler en français, parce que je sais que tu ne comprends pas mon discourse," Matt said, apparently talking to Near. The small boy didn't know what to say, so instead, he just gaped his mouth slightly, as though he was trying to say something even when he knew no sound would come out. Even if it did remind Matt a bit of a fish, he didn't say anything, not even commenting as his friend walked away.

"I do not speak French," Near deadpanned suddenly, lifting his arm and beginning to twirl a lock of snowy white hair around his finger.

"I have supposed that," Matt laughed, his heavy French accent still in his English speech. Near raised an eyebrow, almost considering asking why—if both the men could speak English—did they insist on having a conversation in French. But he decided against it. It was probably a question best saved for another time.

"My name is Near," he decided to add; in case Mello hadn't been talking about him like the white-haired boy thought he had been.

"Mello has told me of this," he smiled, being much happier and nicer than his blonde friend who _had_ been talking about Near, apparently. The small boy found that it was probably going to be much more pleasant working with Matt than it would be with Mello, so he was hoping that the blonde would be gone more often, leaving him time to spend with the redhead. Maybe it was just an assumption of his own character, but it wasn't until that moment did Near realize that he had an affinity towards people that were not jackasses and his biggest rivals. Hm. Imagine that.

"May I ask why Mello and Matt were having a conversation in French?" Near suddenly asked, deciding that he wanted to know, and he wasn't just going to sit around and be talked about by a stupid, airheaded, sexy—no, Mello was not sexy, not at ALL—foreigner. The small boy couldn't believe that thought had just run through his head. He couldn't comprehend why it would. He had just made clear to himself that he wasn't attracted to jackasses, no matter how hot they were. He wanted to have somebody nice, and sweet, with such a warm aroma. Maybe like Matt.

"He was speaking me things…no, he was _telling_ me…yes, telling, while I am listening. He was telling me different things that he did not want you to be able to hear and take meaning in?" the redhead explained, trying to use hand gestures to help Near understand what he was saying. It seemed as though he was struggling to use proper grammar, but as he tried harder, Near only stared a bit more. It was oddly cute, in a way, though he rarely thought that about things.

"It is okay. I understand," murmured Near, adjusting his headband before looking back up at Matt. "Would Matt please introduce me to the other members of the kitchen, so that I may get started on my work?"

"Members of the kitchen...ah, of course!" Matt said happily, clapping his hands together and walking over to the first girl, as though he was expecting Near to follow. "This is Misa-Misa, and she is in taken of making all of the pastries and sweets that many different people order!"

"Hi!" she giggled, her voice peppy and her eyes sparkling as she bowed slightly, not being able to shake hands because her appendages were currently covered in flour and sticky-sweet dough. "We've heard a lot about you! Mello likes to talk about you a lot, but he pretends that he doesn't, so if he ever tells you otherwise, he really does—"

"Ehm, and I can meet you - no, I'd like to introduce you to Mikami, who is the vegetable preparer," he interrupted, pushing Near around the kitchen and introducing him to everybody, one by one. There was Misa the pastry chef, Mikami the vegetable chef, Rester the roast, frying, and grilling chef, Takada who was the pantry chef, and a strange-looking man that even Matt seemed scared of who was the butcher. His name was apparently 'Beyond Birthday,' and he seemed to have quite an affection for Near.

"You are quite…small and adorable, Beyond thinks," the man softly chuckled, reaching out and running a finger up the small boy's chin, forcing their eyes to meet more fully. Near stiffened up, nearly jumping when he felt a hand on his shoulder, a confident presence behind him.

"My, my! I desert you alone for one single moment, and you get yourself into trouble, my delectable little chocolate bon-bon," Mello purred, slapping Beyond's hand away and replacing it with his own, scratching the bottom of Near's chin delicately, as though he were a cat. Though Near would never admit to it, the feeling of Mello doing that was actually quite pleasurable—however, to save face, and not look like he was the chef's pet, he winced an single eye shit and pulled himself away. This only got a small laugh out of the blonde.

Suddenly, the doors to the kitchen opened once again, and a black-haired, hunched-over man walked through them, his piercing onyx eyes staring at the small group of gathered chefs, none of which were at their stations. Everybody had gone over to see how the drama between Mello and Beyond would unfold, but apparently, it was going to stay folded for the time being.

"Back to work," he said sternly, walking over and plucking Near from in between the broiling heat that was Mello's glare and Beyond's own hot reception of it. "Now, I will see to it that Near is situated. Please, the breakfast rush is going to be coming in any moment now, and it is vital that you all get to cooking. We are not a five-star restaurant for nothing, are we?"

Everybody shook their heads, going back to their respective stations, Mello mumbling something under his breath. Near only caught a little bit of it before he was whisked away by L, but he immediately memorized it, making a mental note to ask somebody who spoke French if they could tell him what it was.

**End Note: **I'm now going to use the end notes for the translation of what French is in the chapters.

_Mon dieu:_ My god!

_Qu'est que:_ What is…?

_Mello, qui est ce?:_ Mello, who is this?

_Son nom est Near, et il est mon commis ... n'est-ce pas tout à fait adorable? Il a remporté la deuxième place du cuisiner vide que L tenue, Light Yagami étant celui qui a gagné le premier ... mais sa cuisine a été plutôt bonne, et je me sentais mal pour lui parce qu'il est si pauvre. Comme un petit chat errant, n'est-ce pas?:_ His name is Near, and he is my commis...isn't he quite adorable? He won second place in the cook-off that L held, Light Yagami being the one who won first...but his cooking was actually quite good, and I felt bad for him because he is so poor. Like a stray kitten, isn't he?

_Il est très mignon, mais il semble bien qu'il est tout jeune. Savez-vous quel âge est-il? Vous ne devriez pas jouer avec des jouets qui sont si nouveaux ... Rappelez-vous ce qui est arrivé à ce garçon de retour en France? Tu as brisé le cœur, mon ami ... soyez doux avec ce nouvel élève. Il a l'air d'être fragiles:_ He is very cute, but he looks as though he's quite young. Do you know how old he is? You shouldn't be playing with toys that are so new...remember what happened to that boy back in France? You broke his heart, my friend...be gentle with this new boy. He looks to be fragile.

_Allez-vous emmener au lit?:_ Are you going to take him to bed?

_Bien sûr_: Of course.

_Ma chère, charmant petit animal, comment vas-tu pour survivre Mello? Ah, bon, je suppose que je devrais vous présenter à tout le monde, et arrêter de parler en français, parce que je sais que tu ne comprends pas mon discourse_: My dear, sweet little stray, how are you ever going to survive Mello? ah, well, I suppose I should introduce you to everybody else, and stop speaking in French, because I know you cannot understand my speech.

~FragilePuzzle


End file.
